Lake Ponchartrain
by Apocalyptic Lore
Summary: In which Gilbert recalls a roadtrip he had taken with Spain and France that, needless to say, did not end well. He would never be able to look an American crawfish in the eye again. Idea based on Ludo's "Lake Ponchartrain".


_Five friends surround a campfire, exchanging joyous laughs and stories. Among them, a young albino man sits hunched over, between a blonde man- currently speaking- and a brunette woman, listening to each story and uttering a number of chuckles._

_Across from him, an Italian man gives a little giggle and clasps his hands together. "Aha! That story was amazing, Ludwig~! Ve~, whose turn is it now?"_

_A man beside Feliciano slides his glasses further up his nose, eyes, although slightly glaring, falling on the albino. "I believe it's Gilbert's turn. Any stories he has are likely to be senseless beyond reason, but I suppose we should give him our time."_

_Gilbert flashes Roderich a rather crude finger before poking at the fire with a stick, a sudden reminiscence evident on his face. "Ja, I've got one. Dunno if you all can handle it, though."_

_"What, think it's "too awesome" for us or something?" The brunette next to him smacks his shoulder, crossing her arms over her chest. "Because we all know THAT'S not true."_

_"Nah, not awesome." At that, her hand fell. Gilbert gazed down at the fire, sitting forward slightly. "See, it happened a few years ago..."_

~w~w~w~

"There's never any shit to do around here!" Gilbert lay sprawled out upon the sofa in his apartment room, flipping lazily through a magazine with clear disinterest. The clock ticked idly in the kitchen area, and the fan uttered a light clanking noise as the pullchain swung freely, but aside from those, all I'm the room remained deathly silent. His head flopped back down upon the armrest, arm falling and boredly tossing the rather suggestive magazine aside. "Wonder if I can terrorize West at all... Maybe I could light Roddy's house on fire and hang his piano from a tree. Kesese, that'd be great!" But that would also get him further involved with the police, and that was just about the last thing he felt like dealing with.

Sighing, he rolled onto his stomach, beating his forehead into a pillow before chucking it at the door.

And it promptly hit him square in the face. How...? Grabbing the pillow, he rubbed his nose and glanced back at the door, only to find it ajar, Francis and Antonio standing in the doorway.

Ah. "Hey, Francis, Toni! 'Sup, guys?" He shot his companions a wide smirk, sitting upright and placing his palms on his knees. "Whatcha doing?"

Antonio greeted the albino with an equally beaming smile, holding up a brochure from his pocket. "We're going on a roadtrip!"

Gilbert's eyebrows shot upright, and that smirk widened on his face. "Seriously? Awesome! Where to? No, wait- this way. We'll talk over some beer."

And so, Gilbert stuffed his hands into his black jean pockets and sauntered into the kitchen, opening up the door to the refrigerator and withdrawing a six-pack of beer bottles. Yawning, he uncapped one and chugged a third easily before setting the pack on the table, free for all. "Okay, gimme that French-word-for-BS."

Antonio blinked in confusion. "You mean... The brochure...?"

"Brochure, bullshit, same difference." The albino snatched said paper from the Spaniard's hand and placed it upon the table, spreading it and letting his eyes scan each line. "Hold up, you want us to go to Louisiana?"

Francis stepped forward, scooting out a chair and plopping down. "Actually, this was my idea. I have a female friend down there whom I haven't seen in years. I know it's a far ways off from Germany, but..."

"... Let's do it!" Gilbert suddenly stood up from his seat, throwing the brochure into the air with a small cackle. "I'm all for it! Not like there's any crap to do around here anyway. And Jumbalaya's awesome."

Yawning, Antonio pulled out his wallet, filing through it with a slightly dismayed look on his tanned face. "But we can't afford it, can we? _Lo siento, _but... I only have..." He emptied his wallet with a cringe. "£153 to spare."

Francis shook his head. "I'm as good as broke until I get a job, _mon ami_. And we all know your credit is down the drain, Gilbert..." Folding his arms, he uncrossed them again reached out to grab Antonio's derrière, mostly a habitual way of maintaining his sanity. "What are we to do?"

Gilbert rubbed the back of his neck, eyes falling to the side. What more could be done for money? Suddenly, his expression perked up, mischievous and plotting. "I've got it. West."

His companions fixated their gazes confusedly at him, while the albino simply snickered to himself. "Let's see... I know I have his credit card information around here somewhere..."

~w~w~w~

_"N-Now, wait a minute!" Ludwig shakes is head, perplexed. "You mean THAT'S where those thousands of...? You...! But they got proof that it was Roderich! They found a sheet of... And the comput..." Wait... "... You didn't..."_

_Gilbert sniggers, waggling his eyebrows. "Maybe~." Roderich glares daggers of irritation at him, though goes unnoticed in the dark of the night. "As I was saying…"_

_~w~w~w~_

"Kesese! American soil!" And so, the plane made its landing in a smallish Louisiana airport, and it was from this aircraft that Gilbert, Antonio, and Francis literally scrambled from within.

Francis gave an eager nod, lifting a hand to sweep the hair from his shoulders. "Indeed, indeed. And now we have phone service! I shall just give Audrey a call and-" His eyes fall directly upon the bright white screen of his Samsung, revealing a text message with many hateful things typed upon it. The Frenchman's clutches tightened, constricting around his phone before tossing it aside and dramatically shaking his head in depression. "Wah~! Why, Audrey?"

Antonio's head cocked to the side in confusion. Obviously, the situation had yet to click in his mind... But, hey, this wasn't saying much. "Eh? What do you mean?"

"Ol' Francis got dumped." Gilbert shrugged, moving to approach the Frenchman with a snigger. "C'mon, Franny! Let that bitch go and let's go rent a car. We're here, aren't we? No use going back! That just means getting murdered by West happening way too soon."

Francis's face remained ultimately downcast, though a soft chuckle passed his lips. "You just want the Jumbalaya, non?" At this, Gilbert gave a guilty grin. The Frenchman's little giggles soon erupted into loud buffets of laughter, soon accompanied by those of his companions- Gilbert, in spite of himself, and Antonio, because the others were laughing, so he felt obliged to join in. "Oui. We can grab a car and go to a club or something." Nevermind the fact that Jumbalaya was not likely to be evident on a club menu, but this went without saying. Hey, if Francis was down and wanted to go clubbing, neither of his friends were about to stop him.

"Kesesese, then get your ass outside and call a taxi!" With those final utterances- or, rather, exclaimations- from Gilbert, the group dispersed into the crowd, literally shoving past people in the airport to reach the doors, vividly revealing the world beyond. "Psh, there's no way in hell that you'll make it outside first, Franny!" Now absolutely booking it, the albino shot a crude finger at Francis and headed for the sliding doors out in the distance, daring the Frenchman to even attempt to beat him outside. Francis gave a hearty laugh and left Antonio's side to speed after him.

"Ohonhon, my friend, you are sadly mistaken." Francis managed to catch up to Gilbert, lightly shoving him aside, sending Gilbert to the ground.

"You fucking cheater!" The German lunged out on his stomach and wrapped his arms around Francis' legs, causing said blonde to stagger forward. "Kesese! I'm SO gonna wipe the floor with your sorry ass!" And with that, he scrambled to his feet and took off past the fallen Frenchman.

Indeed, Gilbert managed to get outside before Francis, though he wasn't too far behind, by any means. Heavy bouts of snickering still erupting from his chest, Gilbert hunched over to catch his breath for a moment, soon straightening up and glancing out towards the road. "W-What the frickin'...?"

Antonio stood there, calling a taxi toward their positions before gazing back at his friends with a broad grin. "There you are! Are you coming?" Ah, his companions could be so peculiar at times, ahaha!

Blinking in confusion, Gilbert simply shook his head and opened the taxi door, filing in with his two partners in crime not too far behind. No words could even begin to describe Antonio. The Spaniard was his best friend and all, but he was just... Truly inexplicable. Shrugging to himself, he rolled the window down and gazed out at the suburb ahead, a peaced smirk growing on his features as the car began moving. Despite the protests of the taxi driver up front, Gilbert hung his top half out the window and gave a loud whoop into the air, face flushing from the sudden rush of air to his cheeks. Ah, sweet freedom!

"Ehh...?" Antonio suddenly made a face, hand on his tummy. "My stomach just snarled at me."

"Must be angry with you, my friend," Francis mused, giving a short laugh before poking Gilbert in the side. "Hey, Gilbert, did you want your Jumbalaya yet?"

Gilbert peered back down into the vehicle, giving a big nod and a wide smile. "Hell yeah! Let's go... How about there?" He pointed out toward a small sign beside the road that read "Harrison's Best. Authentic cuisine, fresh taste". "Just another mile or so. Sound good?"

Antonio and Francis both nodded, starving more than anything else. Gilbert fringed, smirking wider, before slinking back into the car and laughing as a truck behind them honked.

Stupid Americans.

"Oh, man! Smell that! That right there is heaven in a friggin' bowl! Mmmm~..." The group entered the small restaurant, sitting down at a table and looking over their menus. Gilbert appeared almost like a dog, sniffing the air and feeling his mouth begin to salivate at the amazing smell of spices that lingered heavily in the air. Crimson eyes skimmed over the menu items, picking out a unique take on a Jumbalaya dish. "Chicken breast glazed with a chili sauce and topped with spiced rice, peppers, and..." His fingers tightened their hold on the edges of the menu, absolutely dying to eat. "Mein Gott, that sounds good! What're you two gonna get?" Reaching out, he took the beer glass from the table and began sipping at it, casting a sodelong glance at Antonio, who sat beside him in the booth (Francis was opposite the two).

"I'm getting the crawfish!" Antonio flashed the albino a toothy smile and set the menu aside. "I haven't eaten good seafood in a long time, and it's not like they have paella or anything like that here."

Francis made a face, unsure of what to order. "Nothing really sounds all that good... But I might have to go with the crawfish as well. Ah, yes, nothing more delicious than slurping the meat out of a-"

"It's not supposed to be an aphrodisiac, Franny." Gilbert cringed, a rather creeped out expression on his face. Shuddering, he turned to the waitress and ordered, waggling his eyebrows at her implicatively and tracing her curves admiringly with his eyes. She frowned at him, though took their orders nonetheless and walked away.

~w~w~w~

_"You little pervert!"_

_And so it is that Gilbert earns a pan-shaped bruise on his cheek and falls unconscious. Ludwig places his head in his palm, murmuring a few German words at his brother's stroke of idiocy. Honestly, hadn't he learned yet? Never mention ogling another woman in the presence of a female with a frying pan. While Ludwig rolls his eyes and Elizabeta curses out the albino's unconscious body, Roderich stands and retreats into a tent, soon followed by Feliciano._

_"Ve~, Roderich?"_

_The Austrian turns slightly, a soft smile on his face. He really cannot bear to be too cruel to the Italian anymore. "Yes?"_

_"Whatcha doing?"_

_"I'm grabbing a few snacks. Did you want anything? I know Gilbert's story is rather pointless, so if you need a distraction..."_

_Feliciano bounces a bit, nodding affirmatively. "I'm starving! Have any pasta?"_

_Roderich shakes his head, pulling out a bag of marshmallows. "I have these, as well as graham crackers and chocolate bars, if you like s'mores. I also have canned foods, and since Elizabeta has a pan, we might be able to make something of those, too."_

_Feliciano gives a small shrug of the shoulders, an optimistic light aglow in his eyes. "Let's make some s'mores! Everyone loves s'mores!" His face falters slightly as Roderich holds up a bag of generic-brand marshmallows, cheap chocolate, and stale graham crackers, though he is certainly king to avoid discouragement at all costs. Sighing slightly, Feliciano smiles and skips happily outside again, gazing over to see that Gilbert had at least regained consciousness. Roderich follows closely behind._

_"As I was saying, before what's-her-face here interru-"_

_"Aheh, "what's-her-face" will rip off YOUR face if you don't shut your fucking mouth." Shooting him a glare, Elizabeta subconsciously fingers the handle of her trusty frying pan, lying beside her in the dirt._

_"My mouth is NOT fucking! Hell, woman, is that even possible?"_

_"I dunno, why don't you test it on your brother and lemme know?"_

_"H-Hey, you two, don't bring me into this!"_

_"Shaddup, West. Yeah, Elizabitch? Why don't I just-"_

_"Enough, you three!" Roderich plops down in the dirt beside Elizabeta, sighing as she pouts and scoots closer to the aristocratic Austrian, despite Gilbert's obvious disapproval. She exhales slowly, leaning toward Roderich and leaning her head on his shoulder, despite the fact that they had divorced a while back. At this point, she would do anything to annoy the albino._

_Ludwig rubs his temples with a small groan, gazing down at the food items sitting beside Roderich. S'mores? Hm. Reaching over, he picks out a marshmallow, stabbing it onto a twig and holding it over the fire. As it browns, he grabs a chocolate square and a graham crack half, squishing the marshmallow and topping it like a sandwich. "Just eat the s'more and finish it up." He hands it out toward Gilbert, who takes it gratefully and obnoxiously eats the whole thing in one note, nearly choking._

_"What the...? This tastes like crap!" His eyes fall accusingly on Roderich. "Why you tightwad-tightpanted-mother-"_

_"Gilbert!" Clearly, Ludwig disapproves._

_"Oh, screw all of you." Shaking his head, Gilbert huddles up, grabbing another marshmallow discreetly and stabbing it with the stick. "... So we ordered our food and finished eating. We headed out and managed to rent a car. So, we decided to take it out for a spin..."_

_~w~w~w~  
><em>

"I can't believe..." Gilbert's hands tightened around the steering wheel, speeding past a few other cars on the road with a snort. "... That you convinced me to get a Camry. An effing _Camry__, _Toni."

"Eh? What's wrong with a Camry?" Antonio cocked his head to the side, blinking in confusion as he scooted closer to the door. He sat in the passenger's seat, pressed against the window. Francis, on the other hand, hadn't wanted to sit alone in the back, and was instead positioned between the two, back between the seats and nether regions against the radio.

"It's a girl's car! I'd expect Liz or Katyusha to drive one of these! Sure, I'm an awesome guy with five meters and a manly figure, but I drive a blue Camry and I'm demoted!" Clearly, this was putting a damper on his pride. "Hey, Francis, turn on the radio."

The Frenchman grinned slyly suddenly. "Let's see... Position myself just right..."

"D-Dude!" Gilbert glanced in horror at Francis, smacking him upside the head and veering slightly, accidentally taking a different exit and ending up on a gravel road. "Don't do those kinds of things! Oh God, now I have to disinfect my radio... Eff' you..."

"I'm wearing pants!" Francis rolled his eyes. "Besides, it turned the radio on, did it not?"

Gilbert groaned, faceplanting into the steering wheel, only for the horn to go off and startle him upright. Why did he hang out with these two again? Even he couldn't be sure at times. "Whatever. But now the station needs changed, and you sure as hell aren't going to do that again!" Shaking his head, he reached over to turn the station one over. Mainstream American pop? No. Rap? No. Country? Hell no. Talk radio? Well, it was on a commercial break right now... As he eyes the road and drove further, the commercial suddenly switched over, and a baritone man's voice burst forth from the speaker.

Lake Pontchartrain! Rest your soul and feed your brain! Absolutely free of charge, all we require is your visitation!"

"Somebody needs a Ricola." Gilbert snorted and flipped the channel. "Such a raspy voice..."

"Pfft, you're one to talk," Antonio mumbled, grinning.

Gilbert flipped through channels, though a twinge of uncertainty strung within. Nothing was happening. The dial would turn, and the number would escalate, but the exact same commercial continued on through his channel-surfing. Eyes wide in incredulity, he shook his head and instead focused on the road, pulling over and stopping the car as the commercial came to a close. "Lake Poncho-train? Sounds like a dump." Gilbert sighed, turning the radio off before gazing over at his two friends. "Do any of you have a map?"

"Don't tell me you're lost?" Francis's eye brows rose, a smirk on his face. "I thought you said you never got lost."

"Bull! I-I never said that!" Scowling at them, he reached across Francis and toward the glove compartment, grabbing a map and setting it in Antonio's lap. "Read."

The Spaniard sighed, though merely smiled and opened the map's folds, eyes each road with a slightly flustered expression overcoming his facial features. "E-Eh... Okay, where are we now?"

"Hell if I know."

"Where are we headed?"

"Hell if I know."

Antonio frowned, a rare thing, as his eyes read over each city name. A suddenly dismayed look grew on his face, and he looked about ready to burst into a heavy fit of confused tears. "The names are all in French...!"

Francis snatched the map from Antonio, only for Gilbert to grab it instead and toss it carelessly out the window. "Y'know? Whatever. Screw the map. I don't need a map. I'll find us a way out." Let's see... The gravel road continued onward into the woods... "Found us a shortcut. Let's go."

"That's so reassuring..." Shaking his head with a sigh, Francis leaned back again, turning the radio back on to some rock station. "Lead the way."

Scrunching up his nose for a moment, Prussia drove forward, flooring it and zipping into the woods, weaving through the towering trees and wincing at the sloshy mud beneath the tires. Must've been near a body of water, or a swamp or something. His eyes drifted upward, groaning as a few droplets of rainwater splattered the windshield, soon followed by much more and accompanied by horrid winds. "Guys... You DID check the weather before planning this trip, right?"

"... Well..." Antonio averted his gaze, frowning. His stomach was beginning to hurt. Must've been the crawfish. Francis said nothing, shaking his head.

So... They ended up caught in a hurricane or something because his friends couldn't watch the weather? Brilliant. Smacking the door, he continued driving onward, getting out of the wooded area and back out onto a deserted road.

He turned onto an exit, lessening his foot on the pedal, and a man suddenly flung himself directly onto the hood of the Camry.

"Holy-!" Screaming, Gilbert threw on the brakes, sending Francis flying forward and awkwardly landing against the emergency break, though otherwise unharmed. The three eyed the man with wide gazes, and neither Antonio nor Francis had ever seen Gilbert so terrified. The albino's breaths came in short pants, eyes wide as saucers as the man clawed at the windshield. Said man, grinned down at them, eyes round and ugly blackening teeth bearing at them.

Letting out a scream of alarm, Gilbert put the vehicle in reverse and began to roll backwards, only for the man to tumble off the windshield and lunge at Gilbert's door, arm slipping through the open window and latching onto the German's shirt collar, nails clawing desperately his collarbone and leaving a deep scratches. Gilbert continued to scream, as did this frightening man, until Francis, from his awkward position, pushed down on the gas pedal and sent the Csmry in reverse at top-speed, ultimately throwing the man aside and ripping the front of Gilbert's shirt.

As the man slowly attempted to get to his feet, Gilbert managed to grip the steeringwheel with trembling hands and floored it back towards the woods, giving a jolt as a lightening strike suddenly crackled above. "What the...? What WAS that?"

Antonio shrugged, fidgeting in his lap as he warily eyed the storm above their heads through the glass-covered sunroof. "Gilbert? Wh-Where are you going...?"

"H-Hell if I know! I'm just trying to get out of this place!" Still shaking with unpalpable fear, he drove along, wheels sinking suddenly as the car sunk slightly in the mud. "Goddamn Camry!" He pulled it in reverse, back into drive, and floored it once again, eventually managing to pull free as the rain continued to pelt the windshield.

Francis sat back up in his space, releasing a sigh of relief. "W-We're safe now, my friends. We can slow down now." His sapphire-blue eyes fell on Gilbert, a spontaneous worry gleaming in them. "Gilbert? Are you...?"

The car jerked forward as Gilbert turned sharply, eyes flitting this way and that in search of the road. "W-W-Where...?" He pulled into reverse and began driving top-speed up a hill, slipping a bit before managing to top the ridge and along a small clearing. Sniffing the air, Gilbert continued onward with a headshake. No, of course he wasn't smelling water. If anything, it w-

"No! Gott, no!" He slid on the brakes again, halting the vehicle and staring forward with absolute horror in his eyes.

"... Gilbert?" Francis reached out hesitantly, placing a hand on his friend's shoulder in confusion. "Gilbert?"

Gilbert merely let his jaw drop in disbelief, pointing a shaky finger forward ahead of them. A large sign of rotting wood was poised in front of them, and the car had nearly hit its post. Upon its surface we're painted white letters, reading an all-too familiar name.

"L-Lake Pontchartrain."

Indeed, there before them was the infamous lake, water level rising from the hurricane's strength. The three exchanged uneasy glances, shutting uncomfortably. "So..." Francis began, slumping down a bit and running a hand through his blonde locks of hair. "What now?"

"Hey, look!" Antonio pointed outward, toward a spot uponthe lake where the water was sloshing around quite a bit more than the rest. "I saw a person in there! A woman!"

Francis glanced at Gilbert, then back at Antonio. "I don't see an-"

"No, she's screaming! Don't you hear that?" His chest began to rise and fall more rapidly as he listened, though his companions heard nothing more. "She's going to drown!" Fearful for this poor woman's life, he pulled up on the door's lock and scrambled out, nearly slipping in the puddles of water upon the ground before taking off full-speed in the direction of the lake.

"Antonio!" Francis, distressed and fearful for his friend's life, took off after the Spaniard, leaping out of the car and after the brunette.

"Come back!" Gilbert shouted desperately, restrained by his seatbelt and wincing as another clap of thunder sounded from the heavens above. "No!" Why the hell would they leave the car? Shaking his head in skepticism, he reached over to shut the door, though this took quite a bit of effort in the gusting winds, and drove further along. Be could almost hear the winds and waves whispering his friends' names in temptation. "No... No! Damn it, no!"

Antonio stepped into the lake, wading through toward the deeper water toward the woman. He stepped forward, hands reaching outward. "Give me your hand!" She simply screamed once again and sunk beneath the water again. Antonio gritted his teeth and stepped forward once again, watching the woman suddenly disappear into thin air. Where did she...? His foot slipped on something beneath the water, and with wide eyes, he fell under, splittering and giving a cry of alarm.

"No! Toni!" Francis leaped forward into the water, diving under. Gilbert watched from the shore, still inside the Camry.  
>"Please..."<p>

Five minutes passed. At first, bubbles had risen to the surface, but afterwards...

Nothing but the screams of crawfish, and roars from beneath the lake calling out to him.

And, for the first time in years, tears pooled forth from Gilbert's eyes.

~w~w~w~

_"That's how it happened..." Gilbert concludes his story with a shaky breath, downing his fifth s'more and scooting subconsciously closer to the fire._

_"What?" Ludwig shakes his head. "That didn't happen! A lake roaring? And some possessed man, and a woman that...? Who's ever heard-"_

_"Yeah, well it happened! Why would I lie?" Gilbert's eyebrows waggle._

_ Off in the corner, Feliciano turns toward Elizabeta, who has scooted away from Roderich and nearer Gilbert at the sudden change of suspense of his story. "Ve, it's your turn!"_

_"I dont think I can top Gilbert's story, fake or not..."_

_"Fake?" Gilbert sticks out his tongue and pouts, biting a marshmallow off of the stick with his teeth. "I'm just a poor guy who lost two of my best friends in a rainy lake, and you think I'm faking it?"_

_"Well, your story DID have quite a few holes..." Roderich begins, though says no more as Gilbert stands suddenly, tossing his stick carelessly at the Austrian. "Where'd the man end up? Why didn't you watch the road so none of this would have "happened"? Why-"_

_"Yeah, well, screw you. Like it or not, life has holes. Suck it up." Stuffing his hands into his pockets, the albino skulks slightly and walks toward his tent, grunting. Why couldn't Roderich have been the one to get swallowed up? Wait, aha! Plot establishing...! "Any more questions, Roder-dick?_

_"Go and ask Lake Pontchartrain."_


End file.
